


at least-

by neolithicboy



Category: Diary of a Wimpy Kid Series - Jeff Kinney
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, First Kiss, GNC Rodrick, Gender Issues, Gender Non-Conforming Character, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, I am so sorry, Marijuana, Not A Fix-It, Recreational Drug Use, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Verbal Abuse, and will continue to do so, frank fucking sucks, he’s not even a character in the book so i took many liberties with his character, i called dibs on ben and his literal entire characterization, if you're here from the GC you brought this upon yourself, i’m in love with ben, just to be clear rodrick is 16, no capitals, spacing is for the aesthetic, this hurt to write, this is still a vent fic, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neolithicboy/pseuds/neolithicboy
Summary: i saw a tweet abt gnc rodrick and i rlly vibed with it and i personally am also gnc so i used him to vent okay sick thanks
Relationships: Rodrick Heffley/Ben Segal
Comments: 16
Kudos: 115





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to the whole crew for supporting me during this difficult time

“hey, guys. manny's sick. we're on our way home.”

a pause.

“holy…” i said, shakily.

“moly!” greg finished, his eyes still bleary with sleep. “you are in _so much_ trouble.”

“ _me_? you lied to mom, just as much as i did. you know how she feels about lying! she's gonna kill both of us!

greg stammers uselessly, trying to argue. then- 

“you do the living room, i'll start the kitchen. go!”

i nodded and we rushed off to clean, my heart pounding into my throat as the weight of the situation started to hit me. if mom hadn’t called, i’d have been _fucked_. 

after what felt like a year, but was probably only twenty minutes, the living room was presentable, and i could hear greg doing… something in the kitchen. i slid into the bathroom to clear out the solo cups, choking on a gasp when i saw my reflection in the mirror—oh god, oh _fuck_ i forgot i put on eyeliner why did i oh _god_ -

it took me only a second to find mom’s makeup wipes, ripping one out of the package and scrubbing furiously at my eyes.

it barely did anything.

fucking- oh my god i’m gonna- dad’s gonna- fucking _christ_ i had to get this the _fuck_ off of my face-

i let out a pained sound, scrubbing harder-

there. 

now they’re just… red.

at least greg didn’t mention it.

mom and dad and manny come home. the door is fixed, as best we could in ten minutes.

greg managed not to crack, and i managed to mostly hide my fear when dad got up in my face.

it wasn’t easy.

when they finally left us alone, i nearly tripped over myself getting back up into my room, having totally forgotten to check if it was a mess.

luckily, everything was as i’d left it.

except- 

the one thing i never wanted anyone to see, the one thing i had ever _truly_ tried to hide from my family, was laying in the middle of my floor, having clearly been found by some _asshole_ who was going through my drawers.

a pile of loose black fabric was thrown on the floor and, judging by the fact that nothing else was out of place other than the open drawer of my dresser, whoever had been in my room had known exactly what it was.

a simple black skirt, nothing too noticeable when it was shoved into a drawer with the rest of my black clothes.

but it was sitting in the middle of my floor, where anyone could have seen.

i snatched it up off the floor, spinning on my heel to put it back when-

dad walked in.

my face went white, and he looked down at my hands.

he looked confused.

then suspicious.

then angry.

“dad, i- uh- i-it’s not-”

“rodrick.”

i shrank back, but i could tell that he knew it was mine. 

“you have one minute to explain.”

“dad, i-”

“ _let’s go._ ”

i took a shaky step back, my fists tightening in the fabric. he stepped forward, and i scrambled back, landing heavily on my bed.

“nobody was here this weekend, correct?” he asked, face terrifyingly blank.

i nodded, the skirt still clutched to my chest.

“so that’s yours?”

“dad, i can-”

he stormed up to me and wrenched it out of my hands, face filling with rage. i shuffled backwards and curled into myself, unable to meet his eyes as he inspected the piece of fabric. 

“this is fucking disgusting.” he spat, and i flinched away from him, my eyes squeezing shut. “mom told me she found her makeup wipes in the trash, was that you too?” his voice was getting louder as he spoke, and i curled into myself, unable to look at him.

“answer me when i ask you a question!” dad snarled, grabbing a fistful of my shirt and yanking me up to meet his eyes.

“yes, it’s-” my words were cut off by dad tossing me back onto the bed, the wind rushing out of my lungs. i stared fearfully up at him, and he stared back at me, disgust very clear in his eyes.

“i will not have this in my house. understand?” i flinched once again at his voice, crushing my eyes shut and nodding quickly.

“you’d fucking better.” he almost growled, and i opened my eyes just enough to watch him turn on his heel and storm toward my door.

he paused, turning halfway around, and-

tore the skirt down the middle, the ripping sounds agonizing in my ears. i choked back a sob, and a pitiful wheezing sound escaped my throat.

dad sneered and tossed the fabric into my trash can.

“don’t ever let me catch you doing this _bullshit_ again.” and he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

i sagged onto my bedspread, fighting back a wave of tears as i curled into a ball, my pillow clutched in my fists as i struggled to catch my breath.

well- at least he didn’t find out about the party.

A painful sob wrenches its way out of my throat, and i bury my face in the pillow.


	2. chapter 2

“as the ringleader, you are also grounded for a month.” mom said sternly, and i pointedly did not look at dad—i didn’t want to see his glare.

“mom, i'm sorry. and i won't do it again.”

“i know you won't.” she said. “and to make sure, we're also not allowing you to perform in the talent show.”

my heart sank into the ground.

“what? no- you can't do that! ground me for a year, i don't care, but you _have_ to let me play in that show.” i begged. “this could be my big break.” i fought back the tears i could feel welling in my eyes, my chest aching in a horribly familiar way.

“i'm sorry.” mom said simply.

in a moment of weakness, i looked to dad, and his face was filled with irritation and something like disgust.

“dad? come on, this isn't fair! i just got bill in the band!” i managed to plead, ignoring the lump in my throat.

“actually, rodrick, that _doesn't_ help your case.” dad snapped, and i flinched. greg didn’t look at me, and i couldn’t even blame him.

i refused to look at the trash can as i entered my room, pushing my door shut behind me and falling forward onto my bed. before i could try to stop it, a sob pushed its way out of my throat. i grabbed my pillow and buried my face in it, letting out a long, shuddering breath.

i honestly don’t know what i expected. for things to get _better_? for my parents to start _listening_ to me?

i clutched the pillow tighter to my chest, my whole body curled around it. i sobbed again, balling my fists in the fabric as my whole body shook to keep the sounds in.

i wish i could go back in time to before the party. i knew the risks when i texted everyone about the party but i didn’t think, why didn’t i think-

my door creaked open.

i scrambled backwards against the headboard, my knees pulled to my chest with the pillow still gripped in my fists. 

“rodr- are you _crying_?” mom’s voice seemed almost annoyed as she looked me up and down. “you are a grown man.”

i sagged against the bed, looking down vacantly at the sheets. of course mom didn’t care either.

“sometimes, in life, you don’t get to do the things you want, and you just have to get the hell over yourself. you’re not a little kid anymore, so you need to stop acting like one.” my head shot back up to stare at her, my eyes still wet and my chest still heaving with suppressed sobs. she looked frustrated.

“dad told me what he found in here, rodrick. i am _beyond_ disappointed in you.” mom said after a moment, her eyes flicking down to see the pillow that was still clenched in my fingers. “i thought we raised you better than that.” before i could answer, manny called out to her from somewhere downstairs, and she sighed, turning on her heel and walking out.

at least she shut the door.

i buried my head in the pillow atop my knees, finally letting myself openly sob. my cries, while quiet, tore up my throat, and the pain only helped me to cry harder, my breaths coming in fast, shallow puffs. my heart started pounding in my ears, and i couldn’t slow down my breaths—they felt like they were being pulled out of me, ripping my chest open.

somewhere in the back of my head, i knew i had to try to catch my breath, try to steady myself, but i didn’t have the strength.

i shrank further into myself, the pillow squeezed so tightly in my fists that i was distantly worried i would tear it. but it didn’t matter.

i cried hard, alternating between harsh, jagged sobs and fits of short, quick breaths, barely able to think past _they hate me they don’t want me they think i’m sick i’m broken why don’t they love me anymore-_

i roll onto my side, facing away from the door, and start sobbing anew, grateful once again that my room was in the attic, far enough away from everyone else’s that they wouldn’t hear me.

my body felt like it was overheating, and all of my face hurt from being twisted into pained grimaces. i felt like i was going to explode from all the hurt writhing around in my chest, my fingers going numb from how long and how tight i had been clenching them.

trying to steady myself, i forced my breaths to slow, letting out shaky and agonizingly painful gasps, feeling a fresh wave of tears leave my eyes. i just wanted it all to stop.

i must have cried myself to sleep at some point, as it was dark in my room, only the streetlight illuminating the wall behind me. my hands were sore, and i flexed my fingers, wincing as my bones creaked.

my face was hot, and i could feel the dried tears and spit on my cheeks. i _am_ disgusting.

my arms trembled as i pushed myself up, sitting unsteadily at the edge of the bed. my eyes stung, and i scrubbed halfheartedly at them with one hand, the other keeping me upright.

i glanced at my hand, the one i’d raised to my face, and a stab went through my gut when it came away slightly blackened.

the eyeliner.

maybe mom was right. maybe i _did_ need to stop acting like a child.

maybe it’s my fault i’m like this. 

broken, but only enough to be pitiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i caused myself emotional distress writing his panic attack and i didn't even do a good job so y'know


	3. Chapter 3

the talent show came and went, and i was able to push the anguish to the back of my mind. mom and dad seemed actually _proud_ of me.

bill left the band, and ben clapped me on the shoulder with a grin on his face. it was nice to have someone be happy with me for a change.

i was still grounded, and i had to deal with greg’s annoying ass every day when i drove him to school and back, but it felt like everything was… okay.

okay enough.

“are you, like, gay or something?” greg asked me one day, unprompted, and i choked, whirling around in the driver’s seat to stare at him. 

“ _excuse_ me?” i managed to say after a moment, glancing up at the stoplights and back to greg.

“are you gay? i heard dad call you- he said something to mom the other night. about you.” i wrenched my gaze back to the road, staring pointedly away from him.

“and you were a part of this conversation?” i asked, pressing on the gas a little harder than strictly necessary, jostling him. he scowled.

“you didn’t answer my question.” greg said, irritated.

“you didn’t either.” i said, under my breath. then, louder: “and what do you care? you’re, like, _eleven_.”

“i’m _twelve_ , and i care because it’s _gross_.”

my grip on the steering wheel tightened and i huffed out a sharp breath. i said nothing.

“so dad wasn’t lying? you are some kind of fag?”

my vision went red and i whirled into the nearest parking lot—a denny’s, i noticed distantly—to slam on the breaks. greg pitched forward, catching himself against the dashboard.

“get out.”

“rodrick, i-”

“get out of my _fucking_ van.” i didn’t look at him. i couldn’t look at him.

greg shrank back against the seat, and i could feel him staring at me. then, the van door opened, and he slid out, pushing the door shut. i only looked at him long enough to ensure i wouldn’t drive over him, then sped off, glancing at my rearview mirror to see him flip me off.

fuck this bullshit. he can walk to school from now on.

i didn’t go to school. i kept driving until i found a vacant parking lot, and i pulled to a stop in the corner furthest from the street.

i leaned back against the seat, and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. there were hot tears welling up, and i let out a woeful snarl, unable to hold them back.

“he’s _twelve_ and he’s already using fucking slurs against me.” i said, to nobody in particular, my voice thick and hoarse.

“jesus christ, i can’t live in that fucking house anymore.” and then i started to cry out loud, knowing there was nobody around to hear me.

how was i supposed to face my dad after what greg told me?

blinking through tears, i fumbled around in my pocket for my phone, unlocking it mindlessly and opening messages. 

who do i even-

ben. 

ben knows, he understands, he’s-

in class. busy. 

i turned my phone back off and dropped it on the passenger seat.

the tears started again, and i made no move to stop them.

i sat in the back of the van, staring out the open door at the empty parking lot. the joint in my fingers smoked lazily, and i took a long pull from it, letting it rest heavily in my lungs before letting it out through my nose. i could hear something buzzing, but i ignored it and leaned heavily to the side, against the passenger seat. 

the passenger seat was buzzing.

i sat back up and reached around the back of the seat for my phone, which seemed to be ringing. i peered at it, trying to make sense of the letters through my dyslexia and the haze of marijuana.

oh. ben. 

wait, _ben_?

i took another hit from the joint as i answered the phone, my eyes wandering aimlessly through the parking lot.

“h’lo?” 

“rodrick, christ, dude, where are you? chris’n i have been waiting for, like, an hour.” ben said hurriedly, sounding concerned. “you’re not still grounded, right?”

i shook my head, briefly forgetting he couldn’t see me. “no, i’m not. i’m, uh, in a parking lot? i don’t know which one. can’t drive.” my voice sounded weird, even to my own ears.

“wait, what? parking lot?” ben asked, sounding even more concerned.

a pause.

“are you okay?”

i laughed humourlessly and took another draw from the joint.

“man, i wish.”

there was a rustling against the receiver, and i could hear ben saying something to chris.

“i’m gonna come get you, okay? don’t move.” his voice was calm, but there was an urgency to his words.

“i, yeah, uh- okay.” i stammered in reply. “i’m on the, uh, the same street as westmore, i think. i was driving- uh-”

“yeah, gotcha. i’m coming to get you. stay on the phone with chris, okay?” ben sounded… scared? why was he scared?

“Yeah.”

ben handed the phone off to chris, and he sounded equally worried as he rambled about meaningless things.

why did i need to talk to-

oh. 

ben thinks-

they think i took something.

something- something stronger than weed.


	4. Chapter 4

ben’s car peeled into the parking lot ten minutes later, and i watched him park and slide out of the driver’s seat, the engine still running.

he ran towards me, and i hung up on chris without thinking. i stood up to walk towards him, my steps wobbly, and dropped the joint. 

“ben, what-”

i didn’t get to finish my sentence before he wrapped me in his arms, pulling me into a hug.

“fucking christ, dude, we thought- you-” ben couldn’t seem to formulate a full sentence, and i felt my stomach twist with guilt. i hugged him back tightly, feeling the tears start to well up in my eyes again.

neither of us moved to let go, and he politely let me sob into his shirt for a few minutes as i tried to collect myself.

i leaned back first, refusing to meet his eyes as i wiped the tears from my own.

“what happened?” ben asked gently, his hands gripping my shoulders.

“they know, ben, they-” i said frantically, trying to swallow my panic. “greg called me a fag. he-he said he heard my dad say it.” 

ben’s face contorted in horror, just for a moment, and i could see him steel himself before he spoke.

“oh my god, rodrick, are you- no, i know that you’re not okay. do you-” he glanced around rapidly, his eyes falling on the van before he looked back at me. “do you wanna sit down?” he kept his voice quiet, and i knew it was to keep me from freaking out even more.

i appreciated it.

i nodded, and he wrapped on arm around my shoulders, turning us around to walk back to the van. the arm was a soothing weight, and, once we’d sat down on the edge of the open door, i leaned heavily into his side. he said nothing, just pulling me closer and sliding his free hand through my hair.

“i can’t- i can’t go back there. not after that. i don’t want to see them again.” i whispered, pushing my head against ben’s chest. “they don’t want me.”

he sighed, scraping his nails gently across my scalp. 

“i’m so sorry, rodrick. i- i know what it’s like.” he said as he hugged me closer. i swallowed thickly, remembering how rarely ben talked about getting kicked out. how hard it had been for him to find a home, a job.

“i know it sounds impossible, but you’ll be okay. i know you will. i’m gonna help you.” i let out a sound, somewhere between a sob and a whimper, and buried my face back in his chest. feeling a strange mix of terrified and bold, i raised one hand up, clutching at his other shoulder. 

“where’m i gonna go?” i asked, my voice muffled by his jacket. “i don’t have any other family.”

ben hesitated, but his hand didn’t waver in my hair.

“you could come stay with me?” he said, sounding unsure.

unsure about what, i had no idea. i lifted my head enough to peer up at him.

“wait, really?” i asked. “i don’t- i don’t want to be-”

ben cut me off before i could finish, sitting me up to look me in the eyes. 

“you are not a burden, and you never will be, okay? i don’t give a shit what your parents might think, there’s nothing wrong with you. okay?” 

i glanced down, avoiding his gaze. he used one hand to push my chin up.

“ _okay?_ ” he asked again, staring at me intensely until i nodded sheepishly, silently mourning the loss of warmth when he let go of my face.

we sat there in silence for a few minutes, his hand returning to my hair. he said nothing when my chest shuddered, holding back yet another wave of tears, and just tightened his grip on my shoulders.

“we should probably go, bud, it’s gettin’ pretty cold out here.” ben was right, like he usually was, but i didn’t want to move.

“what about the van?” i asked, sniffling. “i still can’t drive.”

ben looked down at me, looking sympathetic. he loved the van just as much as i did.

“we’ll take my car back, and i’ll get chris to walk over and pick it up. sound good?”

i nodded, forcing myself to sit up, out of his arms.

“yeah, okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

the ride back to ben’s apartment was quiet, and he didn’t say anything when i took a sharp, shaky breath and grabbed his hand on the console. i glanced at him, and his face was tense—but he squeezed my hand when i tried to pull away, shooting me a quick smile before looking back at the road.

i sank back against the seat, feeling like just maybe i could stop hurting.

we pulled into the parking lot beside his building, and he fucking-

he came around to my side of the car and opened my door, offering me a hand up.

i took his hand and stumbled, but his hands grasped at my shoulders once again. they were warm, and my face burned.

maybe i was higher than i thought.

he kept an arm around my shoulders as we entered the apartment, which i was grateful for. i felt lightheaded—i had been sitting in the parking lot for hours, sustaining myself on the small plastic baggie of joints i kept in the back of my glove box for emergencies. 

as if he could read my mind, ben asked:

“have you eaten anything today?”

i shrugged, noncommittal.

“breakfast.” 

he rolled his eyes as he unlocked his apartment door, walking me in and giving me a push in the direction of the couch.

“go sit, i’ll text chris then get you something to eat. wait-” he paused. “chris has my phone, can i use yours?” he asked, looking chagrined. i smiled, faintly, and handed it to him. he smiled back, then walked into the kitchen.

i stumbled into his living room, sinking down on his couch with a groan. my ass hurt from the hard floor of the van, so the soft cushions were a welcome change.

i must have dozed off, because i woke up to the smell of frying eggs. my phone sat on the coffee table, beside a glass of water that i knew ben had put out for me. i moved to sit up, and the blanket covering me that i hadn’t noticed slid down, the chill of the apartment waking me up.

i took a sip of water, feeling some of the pain in my throat abate somewhat. ben poked his head around the corner, a spatula in hand, and grinned.

“i hope you like your eggs scrambled, because i do not know how to make them any other way.” he laughed. i smiled back, taking another sip.

“no, that’s good.” i replied. “thanks, ben.”

he ducked back into the kitchen, and i heard the sound of a pan being emptied onto a plate. moments later, ben walked into the living room, a plate of eggs in one hand and an apple in the other. he handed me the plate, taking a bite of the apple as he did.

“these are like, only moderately burned.” he said, and we both laughed. i started eating, feeling my ears burn as he watched me. i glanced up to see him look away quickly, the faintest blush covering his face.

huh. 

“you didn’t have to do this.” i said, after a couple minutes of eating in silence. ben looked at me, one eyebrow raised.

“and just let you go hungry? don’t be stupid.” he said fondly, and i looked down.

“i meant-”

“i know what you meant, dude.” he interrupted, not unkindly. “don’t be stupid.”

i nodded, scraping the last of the eggs into my mouth and moving to stand-

ben stood, suddenly, and grabbed the plate out of my hands to set it on the coffee table. 

“nope, you’re gonna go sleep some more. i’ll deal with this.” he said decisively, pulling me onto my feet. “chris has the van at his place, safe and sound. now-” he gave me a nudge towards the hall. “get moving.”

i obeyed, letting him guide me to his room and point at the bed, waiting for me to lay down. i was exhausted, so i did as he wanted, slumping onto the mattress.

it had yet to occur to me that ben only had one bed.

whatever, i was using it. he told me to.

“sleep as long as you want, it looks like you need it.” ben said gently. 

i opened my mouth to reply, but a yawn escaped my throat, effectively proving ben’s point. i nodded sheepishly, and shuffled my way under the covers, already feeling sleep washing over me.

“thank you…” i murmured, my eyes closing. i couldn’t see it, but i could feel ben smile at me. he left, shutting the door, and i faded into sleep, feeling, for once, like i wasn’t going to burst into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy, heathens


	6. Chapter 6

ben’s room was dark when i woke up, and his alarm clock read 11:52. how long had i slept? i went to roll onto my back, but there was something warm behind me and i froze-

oh—it was just ben. i _was_ in his bed, after all.

my face heated up but i relaxed, feeling ben’s hand curled around my hip. for a moment i lay there, the soft puffs of ben’s breath warm against the back of my neck.

then, before i could overthink it, i shuffled backwards, pressing my back flush to ben’s chest. he didn’t wake up, just curling his hand around my waist to pull me closer.

it was nice. i didn’t realize how rarely i got to hug someone.

well. apparently i was gonna cry again. fantastic. 

i curled my knees up, and my throat ached from holding it in, so i let out a slow, shuddering breath. ben stirred behind me and i stiffened, curling one hand into the sheets and clenching them tightly between my fingers. a hot tear rolled down the bridge of my nose, and i bit down hard on my lip to stop it from wobbling. i didn’t want ben to have to see me like this again.

as if he could read my mind, ben let out a groan, pushing himself up on one elbow to look down at me.

“hey, are you- oh shit, dude, hey-” he shuffled to the side, away from me, and tugged on my shoulder to roll me over. i let him, silently mourning the loss of warmth.

“what’s going on?” he asked, softly, voice still thick with sleep. i felt horrible for waking him up, and i couldn’t look him in the eyes. 

“‘m fine.” i mumbled, shrugging. ben sighed.

“obviously you’re not, bud. c’mon, talk to me.” i let out another shaky breath and shook my head, feeling another fat tear slide down my face. i saw ben’s face twist in sympathy, and he leaned down to card his fingers through my hair.

“it does get easier, i promise.” he murmured, shifting closer to me. i leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes.

something buzzed on ben’s nightstand, and i jerked up, startled. ben leaned over my chest—causing my face to go red—to grab my phone before it could ring itself off the table.

he peered at it, his calm demeanor faltering as he read it.

“whozit?” i asked, concerned. ben swallowed visibly, and a feeling of dread settled in my stomach.

“ben, who-”

“your dad.” he interrupted, still staring at the screen.

my face went white, and i smacked the phone out of his hand before i had time to think. it hit the floor with a sharp smack, still ringing. i felt my chest tighten, and i sat up sharply, clutching one hand at the front of my hoodie. 

“rodrick, hey, it’s okay-” ben started, sitting up beside me, and i pitched sideways into his chest. i felt like i was suffocating, like my lungs wouldn’t take in air.

i gasped, my chest heaving as i struggled to breathe, barely able to take the shallow, fast breaths that my body was forcing out of me. there was a fistful of ben’s shirt clenched between my fingers that i didn’t remember grabbing, and i could faintly hear him saying something to me, though it was hard to make out exactly what.

“-drick, c’mon, bud, _breathe_.” as ben’s voice faded into clarity, my own rasping breaths filled my ears, and i let out a pained cry. i felt ben’s hand rubbing across my back, holding me upright.

“you’re having an anxiety attack, rodrick- bud, you gotta breathe for me-” he grabbed my hand gently, the one tangled in his shirt, and held it, taking a few slow breaths.

i tried my best to copy him, sagging more and more heavily against his chest as my breath slowly steadied out.

“you with me?” ben asked, after a few minutes of us silently breathing together. i nodded, sniffling. his hand had returned to my hair, scratching gently.

at least _someone_ knew how to help me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me vs never letting roddy catch a damn break


	7. Chapter 7

i woke up again, an hour or so later, curled into ben’s side with my head on his chest and his arms wrapped securely around me. my whole body felt sore, as if i’d just played a gig.

my phone was still on the floor, and i could hear it buzzing again. a stab of panic shot through me, and i buried my face in ben’s neck to block it out. he shifted, tightening his grip.

“do you want me to answer it?” he asked, and i twitched, not realizing he was awake. i shrank into him.

“i don’t want them to come get me.” i said, voice muffled.

“i’m just gonna tell them that you fell asleep after rehearsal, and you’re staying over. it’s the weekend, anyway.” ben said, soothingly. “it’ll take two minutes.”

i didn’t want to let go of him, but i huffed and rolled onto my back, staring up at his ceiling. he patted my shoulder and climbed off the bed, picking up the phone.

“be right back, ‘kay?” he asked, and i nodded.

his bed felt cold without him, and i curled up on my side, facing the door. i still felt somewhat panicked, so i shoved my face into his pillow.

i could hear ben talking, faintly, from the hall. there was a weird tingle of guilt in my stomach—i was sixteen years old, i should have been able to talk to my own damn father on the phone. 

i shuffled around under the covers, trying to make myself comfortable. it was strange, laying in ben’s bed while he convinced my family of my safety. 

from what i could hear of ben’s conversation with my dad, they were both angry, although almost certainly for different reasons.

i didn’t like it when ben was angry. it was rare for him to be truly angry, and it was terrifying when he was. he was cold, staring at you like he could see into your very soul. i never wanted him to be mad at me.

a moment later, his door drifted open and he slid into the room, shooting me a halfhearted smile.

“i don’t think your dad could hate me any more if he tried.” ben said. “they’re not gonna call again, though.”

some of the tension left my shoulders as he spoke. that was something, at least. i reached out to him with grabby hands, then shoved myself over on the bed.

“good. now come back, i’m gettin’ cold.” at that, he laughed, setting my phone back down on the nightstand and shuffling towards me.

“bossy, much?” he said, and we both laughed. he slid onto the bed, sidling over and raising his one arm. i latched on to his side immediately.

he settled his arms back around me, and i tucked my face into his neck. 

he was warm, and he smelled nice, and i should’ve pulled away, but i couldn’t bring myself to let go.

we lay there in silence, breathing quietly, and i could feel him start to gradually fall asleep.

it was hard not to be sad, thinking about how the last two months had gone for me, but it was nice to be able to see things starting to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm soft i'm soft i'm soft i'm s-


	8. Chapter 8

at some point on saturday, chris showed up, delivering the van and its keys, along with a bag of weed. we were both grateful for it, though ben seemed more disappointed than i was when chris said he couldn’t stay.

i didn’t want to try to explain myself to chris. i didn’t want to make ben try to explain, either.

i forgot how good ben was at rolling joints. chris usually bought them pre-rolled from somewhere, so we almost never had to deal with rolling.

he handed me one and held up a lighter. i grinned.

“fuck me up, dude.” i said, holding the joint out for him to light it.

we shared it, taking turns irritating one another with stupid inside jokes. it was an effective distraction from my parents, who insisted on calling me every few hours. we never answered, and i’d had another anxiety attack in the morning, but ben helped me through it. again.

it was… really nice.

an hour had passed, and we’d finished two joints between us. we were working on the third.

“ben. ben guess what?” i slurred from my spot in the middle of the living room floor.

“what?” 

“chris still has your phone. he didn’t bring it back.”

“oh, come on chris, use your damn brain.” ben groaned, leaning over to pluck the joint out of my hand. he took a long pull from it, leaning back over me to blow the smoke directly into my face.

“oh, fucking-” i snatched the joint from his hand and dropped it into the ashtray. “you asked for it.”

laughing, i launched myself at him, wrestling him off the couch as he shrieked.

“no! betrayal!” he wheezed, as his back made contact with the floor. i shoved him, carefully, and he shouldered me off into the side of the couch. we were both openly laughing, which felt really nice. 

i pushed him back, and he scoffed, throwing himself forward and sending me sprawling onto my back. i snorted, grinning widely.

then i realized ben had me pinned to his floor, more or less straddling my hips. he seemed to notice at the same time i did, and i watched his eyes widen. my face reddened, but i made no move to get him off of me.

the silence that fell over the room was nearly suffocating, and for a moment i thought he’d zoned out.

then, before i could move, ben leaned down and kissed me.

it only lasted for a second, then he pulled back, face redder than i’d ever seen it. for a moment, we just stared, wide-eyed.

“god, uh, i’m sor-” i didn’t let him finish, surging upwards to cup his face in my hands and kiss him again. he shifted in my lap, curling his hands into the front of the thin tee-shirt he’d let me borrow. his lips were soft, and the smell of pot smoke on his breath didn’t even faze me as i let go of his face to tug him closer. he let out a soft sound from the back of his throat, and i shuddered, my fingers digging in to his hipbones.

he wrenched himself away, still close enough that i could feel his breath on my lips.

“is this a bad idea?” he asked.

i shrugged, rubbing little circles into his waist with my thumbs.

“maybe. but that kind of thing’s never stopped us before.”

he smiled loosely, bringing his hands up to thread his fingers through my hair. my eyelids fluttered, feeling extra sensitive in my intoxicated state.

“true.”

then, he kissed me again. 

he tugged on my hair to tilt my head, and my breath hitched. he pulled back and gave me a shit-eating grin.

“gotcha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about fucking time!!!!!!!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uwu this might be my last chapter

i did eventually go home.

i didn’t stay there—i couldn’t, not anymore. i packed up what i needed, wishing i’d had the foresight to come home and get my drums on friday while my parents were working. 

so i left them in the garage, my sticks and brushes packed into the bottom of my duffel bag. mom and dad were arguing in the living room as i shoved clothes and whatever else i thought i needed into my bag. they didn’t know i was upstairs. 

i thought i could hear mom crying. i didn’t want to stay and find out. 

giving my room one final look over, my gaze landed on the strip of fabric that’d once been my skirt. oh. i’d almost forgotten about it. 

i walked over and shoved it into my bag before i could convince myself not to. 

then, steeling myself, i switched the light off and stared one last time at my bedroom. i had no intentions of ever coming back here. 

i crept quietly down the stairs, trying to avoid dad’s anger and mom’s guilt trip. for the first time in my life, the steps didn’t creak, and it almost felt like i was gonna get away unnoticed. 

greg was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs. he was glaring at me. 

“get out of my way.” i snapped.

“or else what?” he replied, looking unfazed. i scowled, but my shoulders sagged. i was sick of fighting. 

“just- just let me leave, okay? i’m not gonna ruin your life too.”

greg gaped, looking deeply confused. i pushed past him to slip out onto the porch. from somewhere in the house, dad shouted something obscene—i heard mom’s halfhearted protests die out, and i didn’t stick around any longer to investigate. 

cursing the shitty engine of the löded diper van for how loud it was as i started it, i ignored greg staring at me from the porch. 

the curtain in the living room opened, and i could see my dad glaring at me. i put the van in reverse and pulled out of the driveway before he could try to come yell at me.

there was a prickle of tears in my eyes, and i blinked them away as i turned up the van’s shitty radio.

the parking lot of ben’s apartment was dark, but i could vaguely see him sitting on the front step, his phone lighting up his face. 

just seeing him made me feel a little better.

i pulled into an empty spot and parked, unclenching my fists from where they were wrapped, white-knuckled, around the steering wheel. after a moment, i grabbed my duffel bag off the passenger seat and turned back to get out of the van-

ben’s face was inches from the door, and i nearly leapt out of my skin.

“oh, fuck!” i yelped, clutching at the front of my chest. ben looked instantly apologetic.

“shit, sorry-” he opened the van door, stepping closer to wrap one hand around my wrist soothingly. “i didn’t mean to freak you out, i’m sorry.”

i took a long breath to steady myself, then slid my arm out of his grasp just enough to lace our fingers together. his shoulders loosened and he squeezed my hand.

“i’m fine, don’t worry. just tired.” he nodded, tugging at our joined hands to pull me out of the car. i followed.

“well c’mon then, let’s go to bed.”

he led me up to his apartment, dumping my duffel bag on the floor beside his bed and nudging me towards the mattress. i sat down, watching him turn and dig through his dresser to pull out two pairs of sweatpants. he turned back to me and tossed one of them at my head.

it hit me in the face mid-yawn, and i jumped, glaring half-heartedly at him.

“benjamin segal, this is bullying.”

“dude, that’s not even my name.”

“shut the fuck up.”

ben laughed, then yanked his jeans down to put on the sweats. my mouth went dry, and i looked away, quickly changing out of my own jeans.

“hey, rodrick?” ben said, after a moment.

“yes, _bennett_?” i shot back, looking up at him.

he’d taken off his shirt, leaving him in just his binder. i’d only seen it a few times, but it never looked comfortable. 

“can you help me out of this?” he gestured down at the tight fabric, and i felt my face redden.

“i- wh- how?” i managed to say, very articulately.

he grinned, walking back over to me and pulling me up onto my feet.

“grab the bottom and pull up as hard as you can. it’s easier with help.”

“uh.” 

he grabbed my hands and put them on the hem of the binder. 

“c’mon. yoink it.”

i started to pull upwards, and ben raised his arms over his head. it was tight around his chest, and i had to look away when it passed the bottom of his ribs.

“almost-”

with a grunt, i yanked it over his shoulders and off him, dropping it on the floor. 

“ _fuck_ that feels better. thank you.” without moving to cover up, he stretched his arms behind him, his chest pushing forward against mine.

i pointedly did not look down, and he grinned at me again.

“bedtime?”


End file.
